Welcome to the Renaissance!
by Katra Winner
Summary: AU: As St. Francis of Assisi Acadamy's Renaissance-themed years begin, hormones are running wild in this sweet tale of coming-of-age and faith. Shounen ai; 3x4 and het. couples (1xR, 2xH, 5xS). Ch2 up~!
1. Limboland

Welcome to the Renaissance!

Chapter One: Limboland

~~~

The suitcase landed on the floor with a loud _thunk_.  Katia slugged him once in the arm, then retreated to her own room to unpack.  Quatre sighed for the third time that day.  He carefully opened the suitcase and began taking out all his uniforms and shaking them out, then refolding them.  _Imagine_, he thought. _Me, at a Catholic school.  And Father lettimg me come!  I wonder how much different it will be..._

He could remember the day it was started - it was the day before Easter Day (Holy Saturday, the Catholics called it) and he and his father had been visiting Katia...his sister really knew how to throw a royal temper tantrum, Quatre thought ruefully.  She hadn't left any room for negotiation, just made her demands and left it at that.  It was an ultimatum, she'd said with a giggle.  

Yeah, that was right.  His sister was stubborn.  Not like he'd put up much resistance, until she'd began relating horror stories from the evil 'penguins' (nuns and sisters).  Then, it had finally hit him.  He was going to a _Catholic_ school, with Mass once a week and on Holy Days of Obligation, plus to funerals and some weddings.  He'd also have to pray before meals, memorize saints for a religion he wasn't even a follower of.  

They would try to convert him, he knew.  They'd tried to convert Katia.  She didn't want to be converted, and when she set her mind to something, it was set for good.  The 'penguins' would have a tough time dealing with his sister dearest.  He wondered how he'd manage to stand them.

Not like it would be awful, really, but he really didn't want to genuflect in front of an altar symbolizing something he didn't believe in.  

He didn't want to bow his head and recieve a blessing from the body of a Messiah he didn't really care about.  [1]

He didn't want to recite prayers saying things that disputed what he really believed in. 

He didn't want to study a religion he didn't practice.  

He didn't want to write notes to a woman he didn't think was really a virgin (how _could_ she be, if she were married, and had a child?).  

He didn't want to play songs praising Allah in a form he didn't agree with.  

Perhaps the only reason he really had for being here was...him.  They boy with the emerald eyes.  He had been _tall_, Quatre remembered, with skin ever-so-slightly tanned.  He'd towered over Quatre (but then, most people did), and half his face had been hidden by that shock of light brown hair.  So very slender - but lightly muscled, all lean hard muscle and no fat.  He'd worn a pair of sunglasses, as the day was bright, and he was an artist.  

They had a quick conversation, with Katia chattering off in the corner about how he really should attend St. Francis's just to keep her from going totally insane.    The way the boy had studied him, as if trying to capture the memory of Quatre's face, had unnerved him at the time.  Now, though, thinking of being under that piercing green gaze made shivers run up and down his spine.  It really was incredible, the idea of that boy - that tall, slender, intelligent, artistic, beautiful boy finding _him_ - Quatre, the short little pixie of a male speciman - even slightly attractive.  

He'd wanted to know the boy better.  Just a few moments of quiet conversation were not enough to satisfy his odd need for the other.  He wondered, briefly, what would happen to him if the boy had totally forgotten him.  Or worse, was already involved in a relationship with somebody else.  

The boy's name was Trowa Barton.  Quatre sighed (number four now...) as he thought of that day: the visit day...

~~~

Quatre smiled as he heard his sister's sweet voice echoing throughout the church.  She always could sing well, and now she was practicing with a violin player (one who wasn't nearly as good as he was, Quatre thought with a wince) her face utterly blank, which frightened Quatre to a degree.  Katia did loud, outspoken emotions - she didn't do blankness.  It might have had something do to, he thought, with the blatantly religious theme of the song she was singing.  It was for the Mass at dawn tomorrow, as the next day was Easter.  He closed his eyes and listened, enjoying the pretty tune.  

_"This day was made by the Lord,_

_Let us rejoice, _

_Let us be glad!_

_This day was made by the Lord, _

_Let us rejoice in salvation._

_Your hand brings me up in triumph,_

_You have given me life_

_I will proclaim the wonders you do!"[2]_

Abruptly, Katia broke off the song and stormed away from the accompanist angrily, screaming, "I can't sing with somebody who can't even play decently!" to the calm woman standing on the other side of the piano.  The woman nodded, once, letting Katia continue on her tirade, complete with frenzied hand movements.  "He's not even holding the damn thing correctly, Sister!  I mean, for God's sake!  The Mass is _tomorrow_, in case you hadn't noticed!  Easter dawn Mass is gonna be hard enough, especially 'cause I'm singing at the Vigil Mass, but come on!  I can't sing like this!  Sister, _do_ something!  Get another violin player!"

"I ask you not to use profanity, Katia.  And I believe Joseph is doing the best he can.  By the way, your brother and father are here." the Sister gestured towards where Quatre and Mr. Winner stood, at the break. [3] Katia's scowl deepened, and she stomped her way down the asile, not pausing in front of the altar. "Please genuflect, Katia," the Sister said in that same calm tone of voice.  Katia gave a muted scream through tightly clamped lips, but did as the woman asked.  

"Yes, Sister Michele," she hissed out.  "Father!" she shrieked. "Have you punished me enough!?"

"Nice to see you, too, daughter," Mr. Winner said dryly. "How goes it here at St. Francis's?"

"Awfully!  I _hate _it here!  Let me go home, Father!"

"Hello, Katia," Quatre ventured nervously.  Instantly, his sister brightened. 

"Quatre!  Just what I need!  Come here and play for us!" she reached over, snatched his hand, and began dragging him up to the left side of the altar, where Joseph handed him the violin and a glare from Katia.  Quatre accepted it and moved the instrument to his shoulder, propping his chin up on it.  Carefully, he drew the bow across the strings, and, satisfied, looked to his sister for the music.  "Here's the sheet music for the next song." Quatre looked down at it.  The title was "I Will Choose Christ".  He took a deep breath and began to play.  After a moment, Katia joined in.  

_"I will choose Christ, _

_I will choose love._

_I choose to serve._

_I give my heart, I give my life._

_I give my all to you._

_How many times must he call my name,_

_And show to me that he is God?_

_And as a servant, he calls to me:_

_You must serve too._

_And as I look upon your cross,_

_So too must I die with you._

_And with the death of my own desires,_

_I'll rise with you._

_I will choose Christ, _

_I will choose love.    
I choose to serve._

_I give my heart, I give my life.  _

_I give my all to you.  _

_I give my all to you."[4]_

Quatre smiled at his sister and handed the violin back to Joseph.  Katia beamed at him.  "See, Sister, what I can do when I have a good violin player right next to me?  Quatre, you should play at the Masses for us!  Can he, Father?  Sister?"  

"I think you should ask Quatre," Sr. Michele said, the corners of her mouth upturned slightly.  "As he is the one who might be playing for the Masses.  I happen to think it would be wonderful, young man.  You play very beautifully, and what better way to play than to honor God?  I understand you are a firm Muslim, but I believe the universal idea of our God, the loving and caring God, is the same.  We worship the same god, and it would be an honor to have you and your sister make your music for us."

"I'd love to," the boy in question answered, smiling and showing off his cute little dimples.  Sr. Michele nodded once and then disappeared behind the wall to the small chapel hidden behind the wall backing the altar.  A moment later, she returned with a tall, fat black priest with deep, dark eyes that penetrated the minds of everyone in the room.  

"I'm Fr. Alan Roberts," the priest said, his low voice rumbling like thunder. "I have to say, Katia is very gifted in the area of music, and I can tell that God has chosen to give His gift of song to Quatre as well.  The good Sister tells me Quatre will be joining us for worship tonight and tomorrow morning.  I thank you very much for playing for us.  I hope that you have a good time at the services - they really are very wonderful to observe.  Now, I apologize for leaving so quickly, but I have a room full of altar servers that need instruction, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave you.  Thank you again: Quatre, Sr. Michele, Katia, Mr. Winner.  Goodbye and God bless."  Katia nodded and snatched Quatre's wrist.

"C'mon, bro, I wanna show you the campus."  Mr. Winner nodded and walked off with Sr. Michele to discuss Katia.  Quatre found himself dragged up four flights of stairs to the freshman dorm buildings, where he stepped into Katia's room (and quickly stepped out; the place was a warzone) and ran into several other studers, who smiled, even though Katia sent them her best death glare.  He then stumbled back down the four flights of stairs, listening as his sister ranted about how awful it was here and how she only wanted to go _home_, hadn't Father made his point yet and could he possibly see about convincing him to take her back home?

Then, they had run into _him_.  Trowa Barton, the artist of the school.  Katia seemed friendly with him, at least, and introduced them.  Trowa had thrown off some odd comment about Quatre looking more like an angel than his sister, confusing Quatre.  But Katia had laughed it off, so he did too, and after a quick little demonstration on his violin, they'd left Trowa, off to explore the classrooms.  

Two days later, Katia sent a letter home saying she'd starve herself to death if her father didn't send Quatre to the school.  

It turned out to be true, Sr. Michele and Fr. Alan reported.  Katia refused to eat, sleep, rest, take medicine, speak (except to ask whether Quatre was on his way or not, or to state that yes, she was doing fine, and could they please just let her brother dorm with her?), study, do classwork - or anything, minus just sit there and stare firmly at some distant object.  

Finally, Mr. Winner gave in and asked Quatre if he minded going to St. Francis's for the rest of highschool.  Quatre, at that point, was so worried for his sister, he was willing to do anything to get her to eat.  So, Mr. Winner sent a letter to Katia saying Quatre would begin St. Francis's the next year.  Katia promptly studied hard enough to pass the 9th grade with good enough grades and test scores to qualify for some Honors and Advanced classes the next year.  Quatre visited her again to check up on her and to take the entrance exam - which, combined with his grades from his previous school, got him into one more Honors class than his sister, a fact that annoyed both her and their father.  

~~~

Quatre stared at the mirror.  He looked so different in the school's uniform - plain white Oxford shirt, sky blue tie, navy trousers, navy blazer with the school's emblem embroidered in light blue on the breastpocket, a small silver cross necklace (as small as was allowed), and polished black shoes.  He scowled slightly, then decided the look didn't suit him and he didn't like scowling anyway.  He fluffed some hair into his face (hair was a wonderful thing to hide behind, he knew), took a deep breath, and stepped out of his room. He rounded the corner into the bathroom, and saw Katia applying plain brown mascara (at home, she favoured odd colours like iridescent purple or sparkly green) while staring into the mirror there.  She was wearing the navy skirt as short as she dared to hem it, three inches above her knee, with her own button-up white blouse, pale blue tie, blazer, and silver cross.  Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and he noted that she also wore a pair of skin-coloured nylons and dress shoes with only two inches of heels.  She stood back from the mirror, scowled (much as he had), then stomped out of the room.  

"Morning," Quatre said in a small voice.  

"First day of school," Katia replied, distracted, as she rifled through her backpack. "make sure you've got all your books 'cause I'm not sure if they'll let you come back to the dorms for any you've forgotten."

"All right.  Um...when do we get our schedules?" 

"Check our mailbox.  It's right outside, next to the door." Quatre stuck his head out of the door and picked up the two envelopes that had been carefully placed there.  He looked down at the one labelled 'Quatre Raberba Winner, Floor 3, Block 1A, Room B', and ripped it open.  He walked slowly back in, handing the other one to Katia, who tore it apart and squinted at her schedule.  

"Here, let me see yours," said Quatre.  Katia shoved it at him. "Right, we've got Music and Latin together."

"Okay.  Well, let's get out of here and begin the hike to the food hall.  No G- or H-classes today, so we're down to a six-class schedule.  Sadly, Gym's not an elective and therefore, we have to go to that stupid pointless excuse for a class today." Quatre reached down and hefted his backpack onto his shoulders and began walking out of the building.[5]  Katia pulled a silver key out of her breastpocket and locked the door, then ran to catch up to her brother.  "You go down the left path to get to the food hall," she explained.  

"I can see that," Quatre laughed softly. "See, there's signs this year."

"Oh, how _quaint_."

"Indeed.  Come on, I'm hungry."

"Yes, and we have tea, coffee, French vanilla cappuccino, hot chocolate, and fruit juices with breakfast."

"Not all at once, I assume."

"Of course.  I'm gonna get the French vanilla cappuccino, or else I'll fall asleep during the assembly.  I hail the caffine."

"Assembly?" Quatre paused to adjust the left strap on his pack.  Katia grimaced. 

"Yes, assembly.  It's what we get instead of our G-class electives today.  Tomorrow, though, it's music in the a.m. for us, little bro." With a slight flourish, Katia pulled the food hall's doors open. "Welcome to the Mess."  It really wasn't messy, Quatre noted as they walked through a buffet line with trays, picking up random things.  Pancakes, sausage, toast, scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, cold cereal, fruit, and hash browns were laid out.  A drink dispensor sat at the end of the table, marked clearly.  Quatre picked up a sky blue teacup and saucer (_Does _everything_ come in navy, light blue, and silver here!?_, he wondered incredulously), and poured some hot water into it, then snatched up an Earl Grey teabag and followed his sister to an empty table.  

"Hey, yo, Katia!  Whoo!  Good to see ya!" A boy came barrelling into Katia, knocking her - and her breakfast tray - over.  

"Maxwell, I am gonna kick your little apple-picking ass one of these days!"

The boy grinned charmingly. "You always say that, m'deah.  I suppose I'm just too cool to kill, right?  Hey, who're you!?  I'm Duo Maxwell, by the way!"

"School idiot, you mean," somebody else said, walking up from the same table Duo had come flying from. "You'll have to excuse him.  The brain transplant didn't work, so sadly, we had to give him his old one back.  It's even more damaged than before."

Duo flapped his hand unconcernedly. "If I'm the school idiot, how come I'm in a Junior Trig. class, eh, Heero?"

Katia snorted. "Because the sophomore algebra teachers heard the horror stories from last year's classes and didn't want to put up with you.  Mrs. Belleville's the only one insane enough to try and deal with you.  Oh yeah, this is my brother Quatre.  Quatre, meet the unstoppable dream team, Heero Yuy (the evil bastard) and Duo Maxwell (the stupidest person to ever grace the halls of St. Francis)."

"Yeah, that's us.  Stop being so anti-social, and come join us for breakfast.  Relena's just dying to buddy up with you."  
  


"She can go stick her pacifist views up where the sun don't shine," Katia grumbled, but picked up her tray, unmindful of the squashed food and followed the pair back to their table, where she slid next to a girl with blonde curls falling down her shoulders.  It was then that Quatre noticed Duo's hair.  He wondered how he could have missed it - it was at least three feet long, chestnut-coloured, and was braided.  

"I thought boys' hair wasn't allowed to touch the cuff of your shirt," he said, confused.  

"My mother came in and made a deal with the penguins," Duo said, reaching over to snag a piece of waffle from Heero's plate. "They get %50 off of all food they buy from us, and I get to keep my hair however I like it.  And considering how many apples they buy each autumn, they like the deal."

"Duo lives on an apple farm in California," the girl sitting next to Katia explained. "I'm Sally Po, by the way."

"It's not only an apple farm," protested Duo, his voice muffled through the waffle as syrup dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. "We also grow squash, tomatoes, a crapload of flowers, and some different herbs.  And we breed golden retrievers, sell milk and cheese, and raise cows."

"You're dribbling syrup all over your blazer," a girl with sandy hair told him, pointing at the sticky spill on Duo's lapel. 

"_Shit_!  The penguins're gonna _kill_ me, it's only the first day of school, God _dammit_ all!" Quatre watched as Duo turned to Heero. "Heero, buddy, can I please borrow your jacket for my first class?  Please!?"

Heero regarded him coldly. "Who do you have?"

"Well, my same as you, Spanish...please!?"

"No."

"C'mon, maaaan, just this once."

"Shut up before I kill you." Then, the intercom crackled. 

"May I have your attention please," a bored voice intoned. "Please stand.  In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  This is a senior prayer.  Lord, as this new school year begins, please bless us to try as hard as we can, for You who died on the cross for us.  Amen.  May I have your attention please.  Please say with me the Prayer Before Meals.  Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to recieve through thy bounty in Christ our Lord, Amen.  In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  May I have your attention please.  Announcements: there will be no G-classes today, and no clubs.  Tomorrow, normal schedule will resume.  Sr. Michele is running freshman orientation on Friday for all interested.  Please get your A-class teachers to sign a note for you if you wish to attend the orientation.  Mass is on Friday; lectors, musicians, and altar servers needed.  Please speak to Sr. Mary Scolastica if you wish to help.  Have a good year, everyone.  And whoever it is stole the stapler from Sr. Cecilia's desk, please return it.  Thank you."  

"Why do they say that three times?" Quatre wondered aloud. "They already have our attention, I mean, so why ask for it another two times?"

"I wonder the same thing," the sandy-haired girl agreed. "My name is Relena.  I think it's an insult to our intellect." A Chinese boy rolled his eyes.  

"The announcer is obviously a woman," he said. "Thus, her own stupidity is reflected.  Women _have_ no intellect to speak of." Sally scowled at him.  

"You wanna repeat that, Chang?" she snarled.  

"Heel, girl," Duo chuckled, dabbing at the stain on his blazer. "Hey, Quatre, can I borrow yours?"

"I advise against it," the Chinese boy said, ignoring Sally. "Maxwell is likely to return it to you in rags."

"Aw, Jesus, Wufei, stop being so prejudiced."

"I'm not being prejudiced, Maxwell, I'm being truthful."

"Stop picking on each other, you two."

"Hilde, we're not picking on each other, we're debating." Duo soothed.  "Babe, calm down.  Me an' Wufei fighting is like...um, Trowa breaking the rules.  It's unstoppable.  The day we actually agree on something at...uh...lemme check my watch...ah, yeah, six-forty-five a.m. is the day that the Jews saying polytheistic religions are the true ones and that the Torah's a crock of shit."

Quatre perked up at the one name he really knew. "You know Trowa?"

"Yeah, of course.  He's part of the group.  How do you know him?"

"Katia introduced us when I was visiting her last year."

"Ohh, so _you're_ the infamous Quatre," Hilde nodded, trying to contain her laughter. "Man, that was funny last year.  The penguins didn't think Katia here was actually gonna starve herself.  They were all ready to just stick her in the Adoration chapel for a few hours and put it into the 'hands of God'.  Jesus, that was hilarious."

"I was serious," Katia huffed. "You saw how much weight I lost last year."  

"That was unhealthy," Sally told her severely. "Seventy-five pounds at age fourteen and four foot eleven could kill you."

"That was my point, Sally."

"Hey, speaking of Trowa, where is the sneaky sonnavubitch?" Duo wondered, still pawing at the syrup stain on his jacket.  

"I'd like to know that as well," a girl with curly reddish-brown hair said, stabbing her fork into Sally's fruit saland and nabbing a piece of pineapple. "Wufei, was he still asleep when you left the dorm?"

"No, he'd already left.  I'm sure of it.  His backpack was gone, and his blazer wasn't in the hall closet."

"I'm here," a quiet voice assured them. "I just had something to take care of." Quatre turned around sharply to see Trowa standing behind him, breakfast tray in hand.  "Sorry for making you worry." He sat next to Quatre, and began shovelling food into his mouth.  

"See, you worry too much, Catherine," Sally chuckled. "We all know you think the silent one over there's your brother, but you're not really related and it's not really your job to make sure he can stand by himself.  Even if you're a complete idiot, Trowa, and you're gonna get yourself expelled from this nuthouse someday really soon if you don't stop breaking all the rules."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Duo said indignantly. "I'd try and get expelled, but this place is my ticket out of the apple farms.  I mean, dude, I love my home and all, but I have no intention of picking apples all my life like my old man."

"Why not?  It's good, simple work that matches your brain," said Heero in a dry tone of voice.  The intercom crackled again.  

"May I have your attention please.  Please clean up your breakfast tables and proceed to the adotorium.  Thank you."

Quatre paused as he dumped his food into a trashcan.  _Is this my life for the next three years?  Is this really so bad?  Do I belong?  Will I belong?  How awful is this school really going to be?  I'm a stranger in this land, really, a new person, and the only reason they accept me is because I'm Katia's brother.  What when they realize I'm nothing like her?  Why did she want me here so badly?_

_Is this my life?_

~~~

[1] Generally, people who have not recieved First Holy Communion just go up with their arms crossed in an 'x' over their chests and the Eucharistic Ministers say "The blessing of Christ".  

[2] "This Day Was Made by the Lord".  It's a very common Easter song, one that's usually played in the last week of Lent or Easter morning, either at dawn, 6:00 a.m. Mass, or perhaps the noon Mass.  

[3] I'm modelling St. Francis's church after my own.  There's the vestibule, or entrance, then about fourteen or so rows of pews, followed by a slight break in the line of pews, where the procession of the Eucharist begins.  Next, there's about another ten pews, followed by the altar.  On either side of the altar are statues.  The left side has a statue of Mary, the right one of Joseph.  Behind the church is the chapel, and in a door on the left wall in the chapel leads into the Sacristy and the altar servers' closet.  The Sacristy is where the priests' robes are kept with the Communion before it's blessed.  

[4] "I Will Choose Christ" is another really common Eastertime song, usually sung while people are going through the Communion line.  

[5] How I'm making the dorm system work is that there's 300 students for each year.  Each floor has 75 blocks, and each block is divided into A and B half-blocks.  Each half-block has two bedrooms, a bathroom with a showerbath, toilet, sink, and counter, and a hall closet.  Each bedroom has a mirror, a bunk bed (the bottom bunk is a desk with a chair and desklamp instead of another bed), a bookshelf, dresser, and closet.  Each block shares a rec room in between them, where there's newspapers, a television, VCR, and some beanbags and such.  These dorms are loosely modelled after the dorms I stayed in with my sister for computer camp.  


	2. Trials and Tribulations

Welcome to the Renaissance!

Chapter Two: Trials and Tribulations

~~~

NOTE!!!  IMPORTANT!!!

            I have a few more points to make supporting the fact that I did _not _plagarise Lorena's story: One: Her story was much more yaoi-centric...Wufei eventually gets a boyfriend, Heero and Duo are a couple, etc.  In mine, Quatre and Trowa are the only homosexual couple.  Two: Chirascuro is very much about resisting the system, while Welcome to the Renaissance! is more about finding yourself in an odd place and adapting and growing up.  Three: Her story is also rather Quatre-centric, while mine is going to (hopefully!  eep) be more rounded.  

            Thank you for listening/reading.

~~~

Trowa flicked his paintbrush over the golden colour of the angel's hair.  He nodded slightly, then swirled the paintbrush in a can of water, dried it slightly, and dragged it through the blob of white paint.  He painted a graceful swirling signature in the lower left-hand corner of the painting and then began to clean up.  He closed his eyes, listening to the pretty little hymn Quatre and Katia were practicing off on the other side of Block 1's rec room.  They were seemingly unaware of the world around them, and neither seemed to notice they'd gone through the song six times already and were started on a seventh.  But he wasn't complaining.  The song was pretty, and he loved the sound of Quatre playing the violin.  

_"Seek ye first the kingdom of God_

_And his righteousness_

_And all these things shall be added unto you_

_Allellu, Allelluiah."_

He sat down after gathering all his art supplies into a bag, and just listened to the quiet bridge of the song.  Finally, Quatre dragged the bow across the strings one last time, and bent to replace the instrument.  Katia reached over and gulped down the entire water bottle that was sitting on the table next to her. "I think we're good for the Mass on Friday, bro.  Now help me with my History homework, it's the essay tonight.  You know, the one about the stupid French court when Marie Antoinette was queen."

It was odd, Trowa thought, how some things simply fit in the world, and this rec room was one of his favourite places in the world.  Here he could draw, paint, and sculpt, all while listening to Quatre and Katia making their own beautiful music, Duo and Heero clashing, Wufei studying, Relena and the other girls talking and applying makeup while the boys tried to ignore the giggles.  

The door opened and a senior walked in and began stiffly handing out notes from the counselor and principal for detention and counseling meetings.  One fluttered to the end table where Trowa had spread his paints, brushes, water, and other materials.  He frowned, then picked it up.  He snorted.  Three detentions for being out of uniform, being late to his D-class, and another out of uniform.  

"What do you have detention for?" Quatre asked, peering over his shoulder.  

"Out of uniform, mostly."

Duo jumped out of nowhere to land on Quatre's back - a newly acquired habit of his, apparently - and started cackling at Trowa's detention slips.  "Man, it's the first damn week of school!  Are you _still_ breaking all the rules!?"

Trowa scowled slightly. "Not all the rules." Quatre blinked innocently.  The taller boy sighed. "I hate the uniform restrictions...so I don't follow them.  I get lost in my art...so I'm late for class, church, altar serving, and my shift at the adoration chapel."

"Oh, yeah, every student and faculty member has a once-weekly hour-long shift in the adoration chapel," Duo said lightly. "Required for your religion class.  You don't pass unless you've got the right amount of hours." Quatre groaned.  

"Welcome to Catholic school," Trowa said dryly, rinsing his brushes. "Let me see your schedule, Quatre."

"What?  Oh - here." 

"We've got Latin together."

"Poor fools," Duo laughed. "I'm in Spanish, which is a piece of cake, since I grew up in Southern California, where everybody and their pet beagle speaks at least a little Spanish.  It's harder for Heero, I guess, because English is his third language, so Spanish is his fourth."

"What are his first and second?" Quatre asked, intrigued.  

"First is Japanese, obviously.  Second is Mandarin...then he learned English at about 11, which is when I met him.  It was funny, us trying to communicate, at first.  You know, 'cause I only knew maybe five words in Japanese and he knew about the same of English.  Remind me one day to tell you about the time I gave him a lesson in English profanity."

"Lovely, Duo, really," Trowa said sardonically.

"May I have your attention please.  It is now twenty minutes to lights-out.  Please return to your dorm rooms.  Thank you," the intercom blared.  Duo rolled his eyes.  

"That's buenos noches, then, to you guys." he tipped his black cap. "See ya in the morning." Quatre waved slightly, and turned around to collect his books while Katia did the same.  

"See you tomorrow, then," Quatre said shyly.  Trowa nodded.  

~~~

The next morning, the G-classes had been cancelled on account of one of the teachers' parents passing, requiring an hour-long funeral at the only available time - early in the morning.  Very early.  Luckily, only seniors and freshmen were required to attend, as the teacher whose parent had assumed room temperature taught only freshman and senior classes.  

In Advanced Algebra II & Geometry, Trowa sat with Katia and listened to the teacher, Ms. Rowler.  Or, more accurately, he sketched random classmates while pretending to listen.  Algebra was easy, anyway, he reasoned. 

A pencil poked his hand.  He looked down and saw a note, meticulously folded, lying there on his desk.  Cautiously, Trowa eased the note into his lap and began to slowly unfold it.  In Katia's odd, carelessly elegant scrawl, the words _What'd ya think of my brother?_ jumped out at him, being penned in bright green glitter gel pen.  He blinked several times, and then wrote in his own small, plain handwriting: _The same I thought last year...he is good on the violin.  _He flicked the note into her backpack.  She reached down, as if to retrieve her calculator, and casually slid the note into her blazer sleeve, resting her wrist on the desk and letting the note fall into her lap.  A moment later, she reached over and dropped it onto his desk.  _Dork.  That's not what I meant.  Biii~da! XP_  Trowa rolled his eyes and scribbled, _Fine, you got me.  He's cute._ and passed it back.  Again she dropped it smack dab onto his book.  He sighed and read: _Fear me, for I see all!  Anyhow, just cause he's cute...I get to be protective, k?_

As he bent to write a reply, Ms. Rowler calmly walked by and tapped his paper, blank save for the "Assignment 1" written on the top.  She winked at him, then bent to whisper, "Save the conversation for break, please.  No more notes, or I'm afraid I'll have to add another detention to the one you're getting from me already." At his silence, she smiled slightly. "Your shirt's not tucked in.  Out of uniform.  Sorry, kid, but them's the breaks."

The bell rang, then, and Trowa hurried off to Honors Latin.  There, Quatre sat, setting up book, notebook, pens, and pencils.  He looked up and gave the taller boy a sunny smile. "Hello, Trowa."  Trowa gave a slight nod in reply, then slid into the seat next to him and studied the teacher.  

Mr. Draconis was a tall, athletic man with black hair, slicked firmly against his skull.  It was slowly shifting from black to salt-and-pepper, Trowa could tell.  The man had thin lips and tanned skin.  His eyes were as dark as most of his hair, topped by an unruly pair of eyebrows.  His face was rather hawkish in appearance, and his eyes glistened with a hunger for knowledge.  

"Welcome to Honors Latin," he said, his deep voice booming. "The first thing we're going to cover today is the rules.  Now, I'm assuming all of you have taken at least a semester of Latin.  If not, then, you're in the wrong place.  I expect all of you to throw yourselves into this class.  An A is very difficult to earn.  Understand this: I don't _give_ grades, I just finalize them.  And my grades are not based on something as concrete as tests, quizzes, prayers remembered, or homework.  You're tested on how well you can use Latin in this classroom with both me and your classmates, as well as effort.  If you know the material, but your test scores suck, then I'll push your grade up a bit.  

"Homework is not accepted late, at all.  If you have a request, you must word it in Latin.  Use as much Latin as you possibly can.  If you don't know a word, ask a classmate.  You're here to learn together.  You, the sophomore class, are a team, and as such need to work together and help each other out.  Quizzes are given weekly, and are made up of one page, on which you will have a simple essay or exercise.  Tests pop up whenever we finish a chapter.  They'll have a spoken part, a written part, a listening part, and spelling/vocabulary.  We've got a whole book to do, one with fifteen decently long chapters, and only a year in which to do it.  

"If at any point, this class becomes too difficult for you, talk to Sr. Mary Scolastica and get out.  No hard feelings." He paused. "I won't say good luck, because you don't need it if you've gotten this far." He turned and wrote something on the board: _PAX_. "Who knows what this means?" Katia raised her hand. He pointed to her.  

"'Peace'," she said calmly.  

"Good.  Now, take out a piece of paper and write every single Latin word you know, with its English translation in the margin.  This is your homework for tonight.  Due tomorrow, and believe you me: I mean tomorrow."

Trowa smiled slightly.  _Not _quite_ what I'd expected from a Catholic Latin teacher..._

~~~

"Mass is tomorrow," Wufei muttered as he sat down. "I hate the welcome-back-to-school Mass."

"Better'n the ones for dead people," Duo yawned. "I had do to the Incense part for the funeral this morning.  That woman is evil." [1]

"Which woman?  The one who died?"

"Nah, I'm talkin' about Mrs. Radley."

Katia snorted. "Radley as in Boo Radley from _To Kill a Mockingbird_?"

"No, Radley as in that stupid old lady who assigns me to the weirdest Masses to serve.  I mean, really, five a.m.?  There were like three people there!"

"Heel, Duo," Hilde chuckled.  

"I'm serious!"

"You're never serious," Heero reminded him with a snort.  

"Oh yeah, huh?  Hey, how come she never assigns you to the stupid Masses, Heero!?"

"Because she likes me, stupid.  I don't laugh during the Sign of Peace."

"But it's _funny_!"

"To you, perhaps," Relena agreed quietly. "However, I doubt Mrs. Radley sees it like that."

"She's just a bitter old woman who wants to make others miserable.  Very unjust," Wufei said.  

"And you just don't like her because you think she dislikes you just because you're not Christian," Sally accused.

"Shut it, woman."

"Why don't you, Chang?"

"Because you're the one spewing nonsense."

"Calm down," Quatre said, smiling a little.  Trowa watched as the pair bickered, with the blonde occasionally breaking in and trying to pacify them.  He leaned forward and finished writing his first letter home.  

_Dear Mom and Dad_, it read. _School's boring so far, but that's usual and I'll spare you the whining.  It's lunchtime on the second official day of school, and Sally and Wufei are already going at it.  My reputation for breaking rules, it seems, has only grown over the summer.  Really, the only two rules I've ever broken have been the whole tardiness thing, and I've been out of uniform.  They just like to play it up for fun._

_We have one new student, and that's it.  Remember Katia Brenshaw Winner?  It's her half-brother.  They're sharing a dorm.  His name's Quatre Raberba Winner.  He plays the violin.  He's in Latin with me.  I like the Latin teacher, by the way.  Very interesting.  _

_That's all for now.  _

_- Trowa_

"Short letter," Catherine observed.  Trowa shrugged.  

"They don't mind."

"How do you know?" she prodded.  The bell rang.  

"Ah, shit," Duo mumbled. "History next."

"They have sister-in-laws teaching the sophomore History classes," said Heero with a disapproving shake of his head.

"Sister_s_-in-law, Heero, not in-laws," Duo corrected. Heero nodded.  

"Off to the next torture chamber," Quatre said cheerfully.  

"We'll break him yet," Hilde said.  

~~~

That day, after classes, another assembly was held to advertise the various clubs - Amnesty International, Foreign Language, Art, Music for the Masses, Drama, Science, National Honor Society, St. Francis News, and Prayer.  Trowa had already decided on joining Art, simply because it gave him access to better supplies for his works, and Music for the Masses because Katia twisted his arm into it.  

Quatre, however, did not have such an easy job choosing.  Students that had more than one Honors or two Advanced classes were permitted only two clubs, excluding NHS (National Honor Society) and signing up for tutoring from the Foreign Language Club, which was a bit of a problem for Quatre.  He had settled on Music for the Masses, but also wanted to do Foreign Language, Drama, and Amnesty International.  

"Stay very far away from Drama," Wufei advised cryptically. "The teacher's a manwhore."

"That's a creative insult," Relena laughed. "Don't listen to him, Quatre.  Wufei doesn't like the teacher because the poor man just said he wasn't cut out for acting."  The Chinese boy glowered at her.  

"Why don't they have a Math Club?  They did last year," Hilde wondered aloud.  Duo coughed and discreetly bent to rummage through his bag.  

"I don't _even_ want to know," Heero said flatly. "For God's sake, Quatre, just do Music for the Masses and Foreign Language.  Chang here'll kick your ass if you join Drama and turn out to be a better actor than he is, and Amnesty's a complete waste of time."

"Actually, it takes up the least amount of time," Sally put in. "It's mostly independent letter-writing.  I'd say Science takes up the most time."

"Does not," Heero growled. "And even if it did, it's actually important, so it doesn't count."

"Cool your jets, Heero."

"Kiss my ass, Maxwell."

Quatre sighed heavily. "Fine, Heero, Music for the Masses and Foreign Language.  Which ones are you in?"

"Science and Foreign Language."

"Jesus, Heero, how many languages do you plan to learn?" Catherine rolled her eyes. "Amnesty isn't a waste of time.  I should know, I was in it last year and I'm joining up again this year.  That's it for me."

"I'm doing Music for the Masses and St. Francis News," Katia said through a mouthful of rice.  

"Same as Heero," Duo grinned ruefully. "Hey, I gotta watch his back.  Racial discrimination and all that weird shit."

Relena rolled her eyes. "Amnesty and Music for the Masses."

"Drama and St. Francis News," Sally said. "And let me guess, the woman-hater here is doing Science and Foreign Language."

"Shut it, woman."

Hilde blew hair out of her face. "I _wish_ they still had Math Club, 'cause I'm gonna flunk my Trig class this year.  So, I'm not doing any clubs except for Foreign Language, since I learned German at the same time I learned English, growing up."

"Then why the hell are you taking German II?"

"Easy A."

The bell rang.  Quatre groaned and stood for the after-dinner prayers.

"May I have your attention please..."

~~~

"Sooo...who wants to be in charge of the Christmas program?  I'm in charge of the Mass," Kimi, president of Music for the Masses, looked at the unintrested faces sitting in the music room. "Oh, come on, people, I know dealing with an entire program is quite a job, but really.  You all signed up to be in Music for the Masses, and everybody from the sophomore through senior classes are elligible to coordinate something."  Trowa turned his head as the door slammed open and a flustered Katia dashed in and took her place in between her half-brother and Trowa.  

"What's going on?" she asked breathlessly.  

"Katia Brenshaw Winner, I assume?" Kimi scowled at her. "Tardiness isn't appreciated.  Excuse?"

"Pull the yardstick outta your ass, Nelson.  And I was late 'cause I got held up at Religion.  You wanna tell Sr. Teresa that I need to skip the tutoring sessions with her, that's great, 'cause I'm not gonna.  Now, what were you talking about?"

Stiffly, Kimi motioned for her to sit. "I need somebody to coordinate the Christmas program."

"Got it.  I can do that."  The club president's derisive facial expression shifted to skeptical.  One hyper-arched black eyebrow slid even further up her forehead.  

"Are you sure?  Do you have any ideas for theme?"

"I'll think on it.  I have an idea, but I need to do some research on it."

"Fine.  Have it all ready for the next meeting, or I'll get somebody else." Trowa snorted at Kimi.  _Idiots.  Absolute idiots._ "Anyhow," she went on, "I have this sheet I'll pass around.  Write your name, then whatever instruments you play, and if you sing, put whether you're soprano 1, soprano 2, alto, etc - unless you'll only sing in a group, because if you just put what level you sing at, I'll assume you're open to solos and duets.  If you don't like singing in a small group, put 'choir'.  That's it for this meeting.  After you've filled out your information, you can leave to go wherever."

Trowa picked up his pencil as the sheet was passed to him.  He skimmed over it, reading Quatre's list of violin, piano, cello, choir, and bass.  Katia had marked soprano 1, choir, and piano.  He scrawled his name carelessly and scritched flute and choir.  He nodded to Quatre and passed the sheet to the girl sitting next to him, stood, and followed the siblings out of the cramped room.  

"So, what was your idea?" Quatre asked Katia.  She looked pointedly at her shoes.  

"I wanted to do Christmas Cannon," she mumbled.  Quatre blanched.  [2]

"You think you can pull that off with only a couple of months to prepare?"

"What's Christmas Cannon?" Trowa asked, confused.  

"Only one of the best modern Christmas songs," Katia said, her tone a little edgy. "It's got three choir parts, a violin, and a piano.  I've always wanted to try it, even though it's a really difficult piece because of all the different harmonies and such.  It's very pretty; I'll loan you my copy of it."

"What block is your dorm?" Quatre looked pointedly at Trowa.  

"I'm 2B, room A."  

"Alright, you can stop by our block - we're 1A."  

"What else do you think you should do?"

Katia chewed on her lower lip. "Um...well, I thought an a capella version of 'O Holy Night' and maybe a duet of 'What Child is This?'.  I also think doing 'Silent Night' in as many languages as possible might work."

"Like, say, do verse one in German, two in English, three in Spanish, four in Latin, five in French, and six in...I don't know...Hebrew?" Quatre thought out loud.  

"Yeah, that sounds about right.  Hopefully all the translations'll work with the melody.  I've only ever heard it sung in German and English," Katia said.  

"Are you going to Duo's this Christmas?" Trowa asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Remember, Quatre, last year I wasn't there because I was at a friend's.  Duo's parents let him have a crazy huge-ass party every Christmas, and they've got the space to accomodate all us kooks."

"So you're going, then," Quatre said, wondering if the invatation was extended to him as well.  

"Well, yeah, of course.  So are you, if you want to." Her brother's eyes lit up.  

"It sounds like a lot of fun.  Duo lives on an apple farm in California, right?  So no snow."

"That's fine, though," Trowa said. "We find enough ways to amuse ourselves, anyhow.  Duo's family is huge.  Probably bigger than yours.  His father's a Mexican Catholic, and his mother's an Irish Catholic, so on both sides of the family, he's got about thirty aunts and uncles, innumerable cousins, and near to a thousand grandparents."

"And a million pets," Katia put in with a bit of a grin.  

As he listened to the banter of siblings, Trowa began to reflect on the whole day.  _And what an interesting day it was..._

~~~

[1] For a funeral, there are three parts: Cross, Holy Water/Bells, and Incense/Book.  I hate being Incense.  You get that God damned myrrh or whatever it is in your eyes and then screw up.  Grr.  Anyhow, for a Sunday or Saturday Mass, there's five parts: Cross, Bells, Book, Observer, and Candle Observer.  For a 'casual' Mass, like the small 8:20's or 6:30's that are held, there are two parts: Book and Bells.  The same goes for a memorial.  There's two parts for a wedding as well, Holy Water/Bells, Rings/Book.  By the way, the difference between a memorial and a funeral is that there's a body for a funeral and there isn't one for a memorial.  

[2] Christmas Cannon is one of the best Christmas carols ever.  It's done by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra on the CD _The Christmas Attic_, I believe.  I could be wrong.  It's a really simple, pretty Christmas song that captures the whole spirit of the season.  


End file.
